L'espion
by PandemoniumofSounds
Summary: Moulin Rouge. Josephine, resident pick-pocket and Zidler's some-times eyes and spy, is drawn into the situation between Satine, Christian and the Dear Duke.
1. The Assignment

Disclaimer: I own no characters in the movie

Disclaimer: I own no characters in the movie. Which, might I add, was the best I'd seen in a long time. Josephine is of my own creation.

Author's Note: This piece follows a character of my own design named Josephine and will follow the course of the movie from the day before Satine and Christian meet until a few weeks after her death. It will follow Jo's PoV from 'Behind the Scenes'. Another note, Nini is the actual name of the girl everyone calls "Roxanne". Comments are always appreciated.

"Don't feel so bad about it, if you want to make a living you've got to dance. There's no shame in eating, now is there?" I still find it strange that I often find myself comforting women older than I. Take Gabrielle for instance, she's the new young one. Nineteen and escaping an alcoholic father and a long dead mother. Where does she end up? Where every pretty young thing in Paris ends up when they turn to the streets. Assuming they can dance. Nini had been playing her mind games with Gabrielle. Again. Nini is the bitterest woman I've ever met . . .and I've hung around brothels that were little more than holes in rat infested basements. Gabrielle heaved a sob and I tightened my arm around her.

"But when I think of my mother. She'd be so ashamed! I'm so ashamed! God, why did I ever do this?" There was a fresh wave of hot tears soaking through my shirtsleeve. "You wouldn't understand! You couldn't understand! You don't have to sleep with them!" I've grown so weary of that. I don't sleep with the sleaze of the upper class so I don't know what it's like to live it rough. Never mind my own mother dumped me on the steps of the church when I was seven, in a city where I did not know the language. Never mind I went through five years of being raised by nuns with hot tempers and thick sticks. Never mind I spent two years on the streets myself. But then again, I'm no streetwalker. 

"Oh Gabrielle." I bit my teeth to keep down the rising anger. "Nini does this to all the new girls. Don't give her a second thought. Talk with Marie, she'll tell you. What good is it to starve? Do what you have to and survive until you can get out of here. Besides, it's not really so bad once you get used to it." Myself for example, the only thing the nuns taught me that has ever amounted to anything would be reading and writing. That and how to make intricate rosaries out of beads. Fast fingers are my personal specialty for the Diamonds who feel they've more than earned a little tip from tight-fisted aristocrats. And here at the Moulin Rouge . . .well, things could and have been worse for me. The Bohemian writers always have the time to talk with the Italian tomboy dressed as a stagehand. I amuse them. They're absinthe induced antics amuse me. And more importantly, they let me read what they write. Between the money I liberate from those depraved, rich fools and the knowledge I gain from the "Children of the Revolution, I'm more than able to keep my stomach and mind well fed.

"I'm going to go to hell." Gabrielle sniffled, she was calming down. I rolled my eyes. In my years with the nuns, they had more then proved to me that there was no God. I couldn't speak much about Satan, but religion was a joke. I found myself drawn to the Bohemian dogma. I smiled at her and stood. 

"No." I said, shaking my head. "You'll find a rich man and be carried off to heaven in a diamond studded carriage with six white horses. Didn't Zidler tell you all about that?" Gabrielle actually laughed. I always amuse the 'working girls'. Zidler flimflammed the incoming girls as much as any pimp, but he was a good one to work with. In my six months at the Moulin Rouge, I had never once seen him treat any of the girls poorly. And he was always prompt in paying me for my services. Aside from helping the rich by lightening their pockets, I collected information for Zidler. "You'd better get a move on, Gab. We've both got a lot of work to do tonight." She flashed a quizzical look my way as she rubbed her red and swollen eyes on the back of her hand.

"Oh? Is there a new prospective investor?" I saw Marie approaching us from down the hall. Whenever someone was crying, they were given their distance. When they stopped they were quickly cleaned up by our communal 'mother'. Gabrielle continued to watch me. I nodded.

"Yes, a Duke who has come to every show for the past week. British. Creepy looking fellow. But he's after Satine." Gabrielle flinched and I grinned. "Aren't they all though?" She chuckled darkly and turned as Marie gently caught her shoulder with a sympathetic smile.

"Come along, dear. Let's get your makeup on for tonight's show." I watched as the two left. Nini may have been playing mind games with Gabrielle, but she was also instilling in the girl the hatred she felt towards Satine. I spit on the gritty wooden floor. I didn't understand the rivalry. I had heard, whispered among the Diamonds, that Nini and Satine had worked at the same Bordello before coming to the Moulin Rouge. Satine had evidently attracted the attention of the man Nini loved. Even if it was true, I doubted Satine had done it intentionally. She was far too sweet. In the eight months I had known her, for I met her before she convinced Zidler to hire me, she had never been anything but kind to me.

"Josephine! Josephine! Where is that girl?" Zidler was parading about backstage again. I smiled inwardly. The man couldn't seem to reconcile the fact that if I was bright enough to help Lili, his accountant, with the books and speak with the great Toulouse Lautrec as well as any of the college-educated, I was bright enough to remember what my assignment for the evening was to be. I stepped forward from the shadows as he jumped slightly. "Ah, there you are. I wanted to remind you to-"

"Watch the Duke and make sure he doesn't notice me. I am to find out how much money he has lying about and to find out which is his favorite Diamond, but I can already tell you it's Satine." I hurried on before he could interrupt me. "I am also to find out what are the chances that he'll invest in the Moulin Rouge. That about cover it Harry?" He smiled and tapped my head lightly.

"That would be all." He looked me up and down. "You know," He said thoughtfully. "You could be a diamond yourself very soon. You're almost eighteen." I smiled graciously, as he meant it as a compliment, and bowed my head slightly.

"Thanks Harry, but I'll be heading over to America once I've got the money." He laughed in his good nature way and clapped a hand on my shoulder.

"And we'll miss you when you go. But if things don't work out you'll always have a place here. Now get out there and make us proud."

"And richer?"

"And richer."

"You got it Harry." 


	2. Samuel

Had I mentioned that I loved working at the Moulin Rouge

Author's Note: Still setting things up in this chapter. Characters and plots are in place, so in the next chapter I should be getting to the involvement in the movie when Satine and Christian are first brought together.

Had I mentioned that I loved working at the Moulin Rouge? Besides a phenomenal floorshow, it was simply hilarious to watch these powerful men drool over the Diamond Dogs and rush to meet their every desire. I was leaning against a pillar in the back of the dance hall. I held no delusions about how much men paid attention to me, and it didn't bother me in the least. Why look at the skinny, Italiano, flat chested tomboy girl in the back in pants while the busty all singing, all dancing whores of Paris were cavorting about on stage? And that was how I needed it. The show began as Zidler burst through the heavy red curtain with his usual flare.

I still remember the first night I worked here. I didn't make one thin cent. I can still recollect thinking _The colors_ . . .And absinthe hadn't even passed my lips. It was just so beautiful. I had never seen so many explosions of colors in all my life. I had lived in drudge and drab since I was born. To see something so alive had brought such a rush of emotion I almost had to leave the main hall. But my "infamous sense of practicality", as Zidler always put it, had prevailed and I remained, entranced by the swirling fireworks of fabric and the casual movement of the dancers. The only thing that shocked my mind more then the display of color had been the men's reactions. 

The girls in other brothels had long confided to me that men were like dogs. But as they were used and often mistreated by gutter-bred bastards, it was hard for me to believe anything they said besides the complaints about their lives. By the end of my first night at the Moulin Rouge I was convinced. The women snapped their fingers to offer biscuits and the men came forward panting like good little beasts. And the way that men who had never and would never answer to anyone in their lives carried Satine around as though she were a Goddess . . .it was the first and only time in my life I was caught speechless. Naturally I lost any and all respect for men that evening as well as any compunction or regret I might have felt about taking their money.

"Outside it might be raining!" Zidler bellowed through his heavy, orange stage makeup. _But in here it's entertaining!_ I finished the thought in my head with a feral grin. I watched as two young men, barely older than I, quickly swallowed a few shots from crystal glasses and almost as quickly knocked the Vodka bottle to the floor. I watched as the glass bottle shattered to the floor as the two boys leapt to their feet, looking shaky and astonished. An older man, presumably an uncle (It was rare to watch a father and son walk through the door together) laughed and began to admonish them mockingly, his own cheeks peppered with small gin blossoms. I rolled my eyes and glanced back at the floor. Zidler was preparing the scene for Satine and building the sexual tension among the men. I hoisted myself onto the base of the pillar and wrapped an arm around for balance. Already the Duke was leaning forward over his table, despite my proper distance I could see the sweat on his face and the gleam in his eye. I suppressed a shudder. There was something I couldn't explain about him. Something that came as close to frightening me as anything. There was an inner intensity to the man. There was a sudden hush that swelled and rushed over the crowd, a crashing wave of silence. The few gentle notes and then . . .

"The French . . .are glad to die for love . . ." Satine was reflected in the black centers of every man's eye and I was squinting against a bright, off-center spotlight towards the Duke. He was quivering with his hands gripping the edge of the table. I had no doubts his knuckles were already white. Even his constantly severe bodyguard had his eyes slightly widened and his face almost imperceptibly softening. As Marie often said, Satine could rival Bernhart any day. As Satine finished her opening lines and the song picked up with a crash of music and the men roared, I moved from my perch on the pillar and caught a young gentleman by his arm. He never even looked at me.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you know who that man over there is?" I pointed to the Duke and the fellow took a mere moment to tear his eyes from Satine, who was recklessly swinging over the audience on that thin swing of hers, and replied hastily and incoherently. Incoherently to anyone but those at the Moulin Rouge. After a week at the most, one learned to translate the language of slurred, testosterone charged mumblings. I had heard titles, sums and properties larger then most ever dreamed of associated to clients of the Moulin Rouge before . . .but what that man was worth, materially speaking, astounded even I. Zidler would undoubtedly be as shocked as I . . .

In my amazed stupor I managed to stumble to the backstage area before half-collapsing against the wall. I pressed my back against the splintered wood and gently knocked my head against it while smiling to the ceiling. Zidler may not even believe the sum I had heard. I snapped my head away from the wall and stared at the torn and faded poser on the wall across from me. Now that I thought about it, did I believe it? _You foolish girl . . ._I rushed back out to the hall where the lucky chosen were dancing with the Diamonds. I caught a glimpse of a positively beaming Gabrielle as she was twirled by some wrinkled old lecher with a disgusting leer. _She sure got over THAT fast_ . . .I thought, scouting the audience for another distracted patron. I sighed, most of the girls did. Survival was always held above all morals. And a comfortable survival . . .where one may become a favored mistress of a rich man . . .well, that came before all else. I saw boy who stood alone, leaning against one arm at a vacant table. Half _drunk._ I thought, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned with a genial smile and I instantly realized my mistake. _Not Drunk._

"Oh, I'm sorry sir. I thought you were someone else. My utmost apologies." Turning away with a slight grimace and glancing away for my next mark, I felt a hand on my shoulder gently gripping me. I turned back to the radiant smile.

"No apologies needed miss, may I ask who you're looking for? I can't imagine many of the other stagehands are dressed as I am." He casually dropped his hand from my shoulder and brought it behind his back so he stood erect and proper, as though we were at a formal ball. Was he nervous? I detected the laughter in his eyes as he studied me. "Or would you prefer to simply question me? I've been here enough times to have a vague idea of who does what at the Moulin Rouge." I groaned inwardly. Another astute smart-ass that thought if they impressed me they would win a free night in bed. This happened roughly once a month; one of the patrons would notice me asking questions and assume I was trying to lure a fellow to bed. I still smile at the memory of the young man who said he'd "Do me the favor of giving me his attention instead of spending it on one of the Diamonds." He had evidently understood how hard it must have been to be around such beautiful women and never get any attention myself, or something along those lines. I smiled the way Satine smiled at men when she was trying to charm them. Vacantly.

"No, thank you kindly, sir. I really am just looking for a friend of mine." The boy chuckled and looked somewhere behind me. I masked my impatience and waited to be dismissed. No use in irking Zidler by losing a customer due to my mouth. He gave me a patronizing glance.

"And this 'friend' wouldn't happen to be a newcomer worth more then all those diamonds on Mademoiselle Satine's dress, would he?" As I said before, I am not shocked easily. I rarely get surprised. I get angry. I _felt_ my eyes flash at this boy's words and he laughed. "Ah, there's that look I love!"

"Sir?" I took all the self-control I had built over years of taking verbal abuse and never responding to not spit in his face. His haughty demeanor was infuriating and his self-assured smile . . . I wanted to slap it off his face.

"You have intelligent eyes. They went blank with that tone you just used. Really, you do look better when you're not trying to mimic the Diamonds." His face suddenly took on the strangest child-like quality. Like a little boy who had just discovered a desired toy in a shop's window. There was warmth in curiosity. I took a step back and eyed him warily. He raised a hand. "I don't mean to be rude, miss. It's just-"

"I'm no 'miss'." I replied coldly. "And I need to be on my way. Sir."

"Samuel."

"Samuel. I need to be on my way." I turned on the heel of my flat shoe and, with a deliberate calm, slowly walked away. As I left I heard him whisper "L'espion". The Spy. I vanished into the crowd and shook my head to clear my mind of the strange incident. By the end of the evening I had confirmed that, in fact, as that insufferable Samuel had said, the Duke's liquid assets alone were worth more then Satine's dress. Worth more then Satine's and every other dancer's dress combined. And, as a few of the older women remarked quite often, "Those were some heavy dresses". With a few last drunken bids for the girls (Gabrielle, flushed but still smiling, among the group) and the dance floor clearing, the public fun at the Moulin Rouge was winding down for the evening. Chocolat smiled as I approached and reached into a nearby basket for a simple roll. I paused a moment, watching the beauty of his sweating, rich brown skin catch the light. It wasn't sexual . . .just beautiful. 

"And how was your evening, Jo?" He asked, tossing me my dinner. I grinned and shrugged.

"Can't complain. And yours?"

"About the same." Chocolat, I, and the other girls, with whom I was close, had a running joke together. Whenever anyone asked us how we were we always said "Can't complain". The unspoken punch line being "What good would it do me?" It was bittersweet humor, but to us it was funny. You had to find humor where you could, living in the 'underworld'. "Only I get the feeling yours was better then 'Can't complain'." I had sat down on a closed trunk and was hunched over my bread, tearing it apart with my teeth.

"Oh yeah?" I said between mouthfuls with a small smile. "Why's that? Toulouse wasn't even here to talk to, he's working on that new play he wants to run."

"I heard you actually had a suitor, that Marcel's son finally screwed up his guts and spoke with you tonight. It's about time you find yourself a man." Chocolat grinned, a favorite pastime of the performers was teasing me about never giving men a second glance. They found it funny that I had never taken any man, never mind a client, to bed while I was working in the greatest brothel in the world. Marcel was the tailor who created the Moulin Rouge's flamboyant costumes. My eyebrow involuntarily arched itself upwards as my head tilted forward. Chocolat continued. "He's been spending some time here to observe the costumes. And you." He chuckled. "He's helping his father with the costumes for the next show that Zidler's planning to start soon." I swallowed hard, the bread scraping against my throat.

"Is he?" I asked weakly. I had spoken with no less then twenty young men. Chances were . . .

"Yes, Samuel will undoubtedly be a great help to his father. I've heard nothing but good about the boy. They say he's skilled."

****

"So what did you manage to find out about our Duke, Josephine?" Zidler mopped his sweating face with a cheap handkerchief. I grinned and slid into the leather chair in front of his desk.

"What do you want to know, Harry?" Nini had once made a snide comment (Did she ever make any other kind?) about how I treated the great Harold Zidler with no respect. Calling him Harry like only the "Veteran Diamond Dogs" did. In truth, it was a sign of respect if not small affection between the two of us. When I first came to the Moulin Rouge I had asked to be called Jo. He promptly smiled and called me Josephine, requesting to be called Harold. 'Sure Harry' had been my quick response. That brief exchange had set the tone of our relationship. We got along well together. Of course, Zidler got along with almost everyone. He had to. He looked up from the mess of orange in the dingy piece of cloth and smiled slightly.

"How rich is he? How likely is he to invest in my Moulin Rouge?" With the last few words he began to laugh. "Honestly, Josephine. Do you really need to ask?" I smiled and answered his question. He stopped laughing. His mouth hung agape and his mustache twitched. "No." His breathed his disbelief.

"Yes." I grinned. "And he's completely entranced by Satine." The happiness in my voice was not forced. Satine could be huge with a financial backer, more business would come to the Moulin Rouge . . .and who knew? Perhaps I could improve my financial situation enough to finally "Leap the Pond" as the Bohemians said. Although most came to Montmarte instead of fleeing it. It was the current axis of a Cultural Revolution. I personally believed that the Bohemians would soon burn themselves out with their love of the excess . . .but the signs of decay were not showing as of yet. 

"Satine . . .I had imagined as much." Distracted, Zidler ran a hand over the tiny, trimmed beard that lay on his chin_. Of course you imagined as much! We all imagined as much_- "Well then . . .I'll simply take the liberty of speaking with this Duke tomorrow. No need to wait to lure him in, eh?" Zidler glanced at me thoughtfully and I dutifully shook my head, rising from the chair. 

"When Satine is finished for the night would you like me to tell her about all of this?" I asked, rubbing my bleary eyes. Zidler drew a breath, contemplating the full extent of the situation. "Or would you rather talk to her about it tomorrow?"

"I believe tomorrow would be better, Josephine. I . . .I would like to explain to her the extent to which her actions could impact the Moulin Rouge."

"Harry, she isn't some new, naive call girl" I began. 

"No, of course not. It just that . . .with this sort of income we could move from the hottest act in town to the most acclaimed show, if you understand what I'm saying." Zidler was now longingly staring at a poster from a theater in London. I allowed a small, laughing breath to escape.

"Legit theaters with real actresses make more money. I understand." Zidler abruptly turned to look at me, hurt. I raised my hands, palms outward and bowed my head. "And it doesn't hurt that things would improve for a few of the girls, Harry. Don't get me wrong. Hell . . .I support you in all of this." Stifling a yawn I stood and waited to be dismissed. 

"I heard Samuel-"

"Does everyone but me know about this!?" I snapped. I had been the butt of too many jokes for one night. On my way to Zidler's office I had been accosted by the performers and girls with their smirks and jests and insults. From what I gathered, this boy had been watching me for the past two weeks. Zidler seemed slightly taken aback by my outburst. Exasperated, I threw my hands into the air. "Honestly, Harry! I have an exchange with this boy, who I don't even know, for less then a minute and now everyone's acting as though I were engaged! What? They don't have enough scandal among themselves to be entertained?"

"Josephine, calm yourself. It's simply entertainment because it's you." He smiled paternally as a sneer leapt to my lips.

"What the hell does that mean? And since when do you get involved in this sort of thing? Don't you discourage employees from having real relationships?" I demanded. My ego had been wounded and I wanted to spread the misery. Harry merely shrugged.

"Josephine, you know you're considered to be an 'Iron Maiden' among the girls, you take pride in that reputation-"

"Damn right I take pride in it-"

"The what did you think would happen when a man finally noticed you?" He suddenly grinned. "But to have you not realize he was noticing you, what kind of a spy are you? What am I paying you for?"

"Thanks Harry." I groaned.

"And this is a matter of business for me. Marcel is one of the finest tailors in Paris, and he is very fond of his only son." I felt my face slowly, slowly turning red. The conversation was not heading in a direction I was comfortable with. Zidler continued speaking cautiously, deliberately. "And . . .if it pleases Samuel to watch you . . .I will not be the one to upset the boy by discouraging him. He's very likely to replace his father some day and we want him happy working here-"

"I'm not one of your whores. And I'm not for sale." My hands had balled and were shaking fists clenched painfully at my side. Zidler studied me a moment before replying softly.

"Nor do I consider you one. I'm not asking you to sleep with the boy . . .just be kind to him. Treat him as you would any other stagehand. And if he pays you any extra attention, enjoy it." I stood a moment, speechless, before stalking out of the office. I walked past the girls who were finished for the evening, past the performers who were drinking, smoking and gambling, past the rooms where muffled sounds of passion penetrated the walls. 

I went straight to my lone cot, in a corner far from the flashy stage of the Moulin Rouge and flopped down onto the tough material. I stared at the filthy ceiling. As I had the night before. And as I would the night to follow. I closed my eyes. There was a reason I was on this cot and not in a room with a large bed. Zidler had no control over me. I heard someone timidly call my name. I opened my eyes. Gabrielle stood there with her smudged makeup and mussed hair.

"Jo? Harold wants to know if he can count on you tomorrow . . ." I nodded and closed my eyes again. "Jo? He . . .he also wants to know if you'll be kind enough to give Marcel's son, Samuel a tour of the backstage area tomorrow . . .before the show? So he gets a feel for it. No one knows it like you and he'll be helping with the costumes for the next show." I felt the anger on my face. Gabrielle sighed. "Jo . . .you just have to show him around . . .don't take it so personally. Samuel seems a sweet boy." I opened my eyes and glanced at her, a smile grew on her face. "Do what you have to and survive, right?" I managed a small chuckle.

"Fine. I'll give Samuel the backstage tour. But tell Harry it's going to cost him."


	3. It Begins

Author's Note: 

Thank you Beanster for pointing that out! I must admit I was writing a bit fast and didn't have the character explain things too well. When Jo says "Legit theaters with real actresses make more money" she was referring to the increased take on Zidler's part. The only motivation I can imagine for Zidler turning the MR into a real theater in the movie is because he would make more money. And while it's true that whores made more than the vast majority of actresses then (and now), I doubt Bernhart made less than Satine. And running with Marie's affirmation that Satine would be bigger then Bernhart (and the crowd's standing ovation at the end of the film), I'd wager Satine would make more as a legitimate actress then she would as the "Sparkling Diamond". But I agree with you in that financial reasons are not her main motivation for going legit, I simply think they are Zidler's.

I fell asleep angry and woke with an aching neck and shoulders. Groaning, I rolled off of my cot and landed with a painful thump on the filthy floor. 

"Ow." Said dully, as I raised my throbbing head and glanced around. The overlapping rhythms of nails being pounded into lumber echoed from among the rafters. I listened to the muted conversations among the men as they repaired and prepared the sets for tonight's show. From another hall I heard the rising giggles of the Diamond Dogs and the swell of their gossiping tones. I managed to pull myself to my feet and begin to clumsily plod down the corridor towards the baths. Mornings were not my time of the day. I passed a few of the older women sitting hunched in their large wooden chairs, bent over the large costume dresses the girls wore as they engaged in a heated debate over the latest tidbit of news.

"Well I heard this Duke was known for-"

"Never! Never would I imagine we'd have such a rich financier-"

"And he's after Satine?"

"It just makes me quiver thinking about it!"

I rolled my eyes and pressed on towards the baths, nodding to friends working backstage as I passed. Despite my hatred of rising early, it was a better alternative to waiting for an hour once the other girls were up and about. I dumped my rumpled clothes in a hamper and slumped into the cool tub of water. I never had enjoyed hot baths, they made me drowsy. Briskly scrubbing my arms raw I began to think about my chores for the day. In the morning I had to run errands in the local market and manage to get myself breakfast. By noon I needed to be back at the Moulin Rouge to help Marie prepare Satine's room for the evening with the Duke. During the afternoon I would aid the men with last minute adjustments on the stage. Before the show I'd help the other girls dress and scout the door for the Duke's entrance. And during the show I would liberate more then enough funds to cover what I had lost last night while confirming facts on the Duke. I stopped scrubbing my arm as my eyes widened . . .that reminded me.

"Jo! Don't forget you've got to show Samuel around this afternoon!" Marie was pounding on the door. I managed to reply a garbled promise before I sunk under the surface of the water. _Damn_. I surfaced, climbed out of the tub, grabbed my robe and went off in search of a clean outfit. If I believed in fate or God, I would have believed that one or the other had brought me to Montmarte. The only place in Paris, if not the world, where a girl could walk freely wearing male clothing. After all, there were stranger sights then I. It was true, taunts were thrown my way every now and then, but not enough to merit the rate of "often". Besides, pants were practical, and skirts and dresses were cumbersome and bulky. I didn't mind wearing skirts or dresses, but while I was biking around Montmarte they caught in the wheels, and while working at the Moulin Rouge they brought more attention then my pants.

I arrived from my morning errands to find Chocolat fiddling with some props for the show. 

"Hey." I said, taking an empty seat at the table where he sat. He nodded, concentrating on the magical device. It was a wand that shot like a gun with great green flames that sparkled in the air for long seconds. None of us knew how it operated. I glanced around the generally abandoned dance hall. A few of the girls were rehearsing some complicated moves before general practice began. The slow counting and solid smacking sound of wood echoed in the great chamber. I sighed.

"Jo!" I turned my head, my body slouching low in the chair. It was Nini, hands on her hips and scowling. "Harry wants you in his office." She smirked. "He would like to introduce you to your new client." _Don't rise to it_ . . .I thought as I glared at her and rose slowly, bringing my bag of food with me. Chocolat muttered something and I turned back to him.

"What'd you say?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and allowing a skeptical smile to play across my lips. He grinned and winked.

"I said you can leave that bag of food here since you'll be too busy to eat." I sighed and threw the bag onto the table. A pear rolled out and fell to the floor. Chocolat chuckled and bent to retrieve it.

"Everyone's a comedian." I shook my head and started for Zidler's office. As I moved past the main stage and slipped behind the heavy stage curtains I heard my name called again. I turned and this time it was Satine who was coming up to me.

"Jo, are you going to help Marie get my room ready for tonight?" She asked looking slightly flushed and very excited.

"Oh, yeah, sure. Harry told you about the Duke then?" I pocketed my hands and leaned back on my heels. My mind was already racing and analyzing further the details I had managed to scrape together about the Duke. Already the perfect way to ensnare the Duke through atmosphere and setting was settling in my mind. Satine laughed and glanced at a group of girls standing in a group, talking in happy tones.

"If he hadn't someone would have. This Duke is quite rich, isn't he?" She leaned forward slightly, eager for a positive answer.

"Too rich if you ask me." She gave me a mock-weary look. "But you didn't!" I smiled easily. "Yeah, he's pretty wealthy. And he could really turn this place around, as well as it's doing right now. But I'm sure Harry gave you the speech."

"Oh! Did Nini tell you that he wants you in his office? Something about giving a tour?" She raised a curious eyebrow. I stiffened a bit and looked at my shoes. The toes were beginning to wear through.

"Yes. Nini told me I was needed. Actually, I'm heading there now." Satine obviously sensed I was not in the mood to sate her wonder over the "tour" issue and gracefully changed the subject.

"So you'll help Marie later then?"

"I will. Anyway, no use in keeping Harry waiting. I'll talk to you later, Satine." She smiled and nodded and I went on my way. I always found it interesting how different Nini and Satine were, despite similar backgrounds and situations. I knew that Nini wasn't an evil woman . . .she could just be petty and cruel at times. I gathered she must be a jealous woman and at times, I pitied her. And then there were times when I wanted to slap her in the face.

"Josephine! So glad to see you!" I raised my head and forced a smile as I walked into Zidler's office. Samuel was already sitting there, dressed in simple clothes instead of the fine suit he had worn the previous evening, with what he must have thought was a polite and charming smile. As much as I loathed to admit it, the young man did have quite a charming smile. And undoubtedly it would have worked on some unsuspecting young lady. I, however, was neither unsuspecting nor a lady. Samuel and I exchanged the politest of nods and slight inclinations of our eyebrows. Zidler allowed a moment for our subtle greeting before taking a slightly nervous breath and pressing on. "This is Samuel, Josephine. Marcel's son."

"Oh, don't be troubled with introductions, Harold." Samuel stood as I crossed the room with an amused look. He took a few broad steps towards me and I automatically raised my hand. I had watched the other girls do this numerous times, it was a ritual drilled into my being at this point. Samuel took my hand in his, and before bringing his pals lips to it commented "Miss Josephine and I have already met." He lightly toughed the sensitive skin on the back of my palm as I smirked and murmured softly.

"I told you I am no miss."

He smiled as he brought his face up from my hand. Zidler's view of the exchange was blocked as my back was to him, but he was already fully involved in his role of playing the "shocked employer who had no idea we had met".

"Have you already?" He exclaimed, eyes widening with calculated shock as he brought a hand to his curly orange hair. "That's wonderful! Then you won't mind, Samuel, if Josephine escorts you around the backstage and familiarizes you with the Moulin Rouge?"

"Of course not, Harold." Samuel replied with what seemed to me to be mock severity. He turned slightly and gave me a composed glance. "That is if Miss Josephine is not currently engaged in any other activities and has the time to do so." I saw Harold stiffen and found a rather perverse pleasure in knowing that he feared I would lie to Samuel and excuse myself. Though, I did have work to do and dragging the tailor's son was delaying some important chores I would be rushed to finish later. Technically it would not be a lie. I smiled.

"Not at all, sir."

"Oh, call me Samuel, please. I never did enjoy formalities."

"Samuel, then. And since we are on such friendly terms, please, call me Jo. Everyone but Harry does. Harold, would you mind if I started right away? Or do you have further business with Samuel?" Zidler blinked and hesitate a mere half second before recovering with his broad smile and opened his hands, palms facing out. 

"No, not at all! By all means you two, get started on your tour." Samuel bowed towards Zidler in such a serious manner and so stiffly offered me his arm, I wondered if Harry had even caught on to the subtle mockery. I had to gently bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from smiling as, mimicking Samuel's severe demeanor, I took his arm quite properly and allowed myself to be led from the office.

****

After three hours of taking Samuel around the Moulin Rouge and showing him everything from Satine's dressing room to the piss-bucket the stagehands in the highest caverns of the sets used during shows, I found myself not as violently opposed to spending time with him. When I spoke he paid close attention to what I had to say, he asked intelligent questions and when Nini began to make some snide comments while I was making introductions, Samuel asked in an exceedingly polite tone and manner whether or not she had been to a doctor lately because he was concerned she was showing the early signs of Syphilis. As we went along the dim corridors we spoke at great length of literature and philosophy and science and I was 'surprised' to discover that Marcel had sent him to school. We also conversed on the Bohemian Doctrine of "Truth, Beauty, Love and Freedom". 

"I can understand why you would be more attracted to Love and Beauty, Samuel." I said as we moved from the dingy back halls and up towards the lavish room where the Diamonds entertained clients. "After all, you are an artist of cloth. Art must be beautiful to the artist. And to create beauty, and artist must love his work."

"Perhaps." He had replied, running his hand along the smooth banister. "But I don't understand why you prefer truth and freedom." I merely shrugged and smiled cryptically before giving him the history of the women working on the particular floor we had reached as well as the latest gossip so he would be aware of the scandals and rivalries to avoid. After he was quite satisfied with the tour, Samuel queried if I would be interested in going to a small cafe close by and getting a light dinner. I, of course, declined explaining I had to aid Marie with preparations for the night ahead. Samuel smiled and said he understood and that he hoped he would see me the following day, when he was to begin working with his father. It wasn't before I reached Satine's personal area in the elephant that I realized we had said nothing about the previous evening or his marking me as a spy.

****

With only a few minutes until showtime, Harold Zidler was panicking. The Dogs had long since stopped being Diamonds and were snarling, agitated and generally snappy and skittish. I was one of the few in the general vicinity of the stage area who still had their head on. Thus I was attempting to order dancers to their places and receiving dirty looks. Was I nervous? Yes. Was I shivering and swallowing repeatedly and wringing my hands? No. 

"Marie! Is the room ready? Satine? Are you ready? Girls, don't lose it tonight! Josephine! Why are you backstage! Get out there! Now! Now! Now! Is everything ready!?" He was yelling to the point where I almost felt sorry for him, Zidler was going to kill himself if he did not learn to clam down. On my way out into the dance hall Zidler grabbed my arm and jerked me towards him. "Are you positive everything is ready?"

"Yeah! Don't worry!"

"Everything is perfect? Everything?"

"Yeah, Harry! Calm down! I've never seen you so worked up!" I crossed my arms and glared at him, slightly insulted he thought I would managed to ruin something so important. "The flowers are just the kind he likes, the champagne is his favorite brand and flavor and-"

"And what kind of women appeals to the Duke?" Zidler demanded, shooting a concerned look past the curtain. We could see a slit of audience. I sighed.

"Satine is more of an expert on that, Harry. Ask her." I said as I slipped through the slit and made my way into the crowd. I caught a view of the Duke and his bodyguard, the Duke looked far more apprehensive than Zidler. In an adjacent booth I was please to see Toulouse with a few of his friends, one whom I had never seen before who looked slightly ill thought eager. I made a mental note to speak with Toulouse later in the evening as I wandered towards the back of the crowd of rowdy men. As it was a larger crowd than usual the "gentlemen" were packed quite tightly together and it was no hard task to slip my hands in and out of their pockets as they all had their eyes fastened on the stage curtain, panting with anticipation. 

My back was still turned when the first wave of music burst over the crowd. The Dogs descended onto the floor with an unusual flare and sense energy. The way the men grouped together, pressing to gain even precious inches closer to the dancers kept me from effectively moving among them. With a smirk and a quick jangling of the coins in my pocket, I began to pick my way along the edge of the crowd. When Satine took stage I would be able to slip among them again as their faces were drawn upwards and their minds were elsewhere. Positioning myself, I watched the Duke as he nervously swallowed another mouthful of brandy. His hand kept rising to his face and fingering his thin mustache. I found myself wondering what it was inside this man's head that made him tick. I wondered why he would grow so nervous over a mere meeting with a prostitute. Many men had slept with Satine and many were apprehensive . . .but none that I had seen were quite so much as this Duke. And then Satine took the stage.

And I was in my element. I plowed my way through the hypnotized crowd and plundered every pocket I could as I made my way at a steep angle towards the safety of the curtains. Amid the glazed eyes, slightly parted mouths, sagging skin and lusting stares I moved with flying fingers until my wrists were sore from twisting and my deep pockets were brimming with billfolds. I ducked behind the curtains and ran into Marie.

"Josephine?" Marie, for some odd reason or another, had always treated me with an unusually strong maternal sense. I wasn't the 'daughter she never had' (I always thought Satine had long since earned that title) but I was her misfit granddaughter who needed advice and guidance. She gently placed a hand on my shoulder as a look of concern grew in her eyes. "Why are you back so early? It hasn't been but five minutes! Are you alright?"

"Full House." I panted, wiping a thin layer of sweat from my forehead as I suddenly realized how hot it had been in the hall. I began to empty my pockets onto the floor, a few of the idle performers watching me closely. I glared at them. "Mind putting these away, Marie? I want to be on the floor in case anything goes wrong." Marie stooped with a worried look and began to place the loose bills on a low table. The performers continued to look on with interest. "If you touch 'em . . .I'll get each of you back." Slight smiles appeared on their faces at my threat. It was not idle, quite serious actually. I had already blackmailed a thieving dancer for light-fingering some money from my trunk. I had also invested in a lock. Besides, a few scant francs in the hands of those hacks were a small price to pay to ensure I could watch the Duke and Satine. In a moment I was in the hall again with my eyes turned towards the Duke . . .and there was Toulouse brushing him down with a handkerchief. 

_What the hell?_ The Duke looked flustered and angry as he batted at Toulouse with open hands. Toulouse was busy falling over the Duke and creating a general nuisance of himself. _Too much absinthe already?_ I wondered as I squinted at the scene they were causing. Other patrons watched their tussle with looks of amusement, confusion and annoyance. I grinned inwardly at their reactions and hypocrisy. It was perfectly acceptable for a 'gentleman' to be in a bordello, to drink in excess and to sleep with many women, but it was unacceptable for him to make a scene. Victorians were so easy to laugh at. Another flash of white caught my eye and I watched one of the men with Toulouse, the one I did not recognize, wave his handkerchief weakly in the air. Or was someone waving it for him? I could not tell.

But as the music changed Satine went over to the young man and claimed him as her dance partner for the evening. He must have been flustered, or responded too slowly or stupidly because she turned from him briefly, flashing that pout that would make men kill for her if she so desired, before grabbing his arm and dragging him to the dance floor. Confused, I scoured the crowd to see where Zidler was but I could not make out his face anywhere. I looked back at the Duke whose expression must have matched mine. And suddenly things made sense. My eyes widened as I watched Satine and Toulouse's friend dancing gracefully on the floor. _Oh hell . . .Oh no . . ._And I quickly began to move for the backstage area. In my haste I collided with Gabrielle and her partner.

"Josephine! What do you think you're doing?" She squawked leaping back as I tripped over my feet and fell to the floor. Her partner cursed and made a weak attempt to kick me but I was already up and lurching once again for curtain. This could damn well ruin everything! I stole another hurried glance at Satine and her partner who was most certainly not the Duke but by the way she was putting "the moves" on him, she thought certainly was. Hats flew into the air and Satine was returning to her swing as the "Duke" stood slack-jawed watching her go. I grabbed for the heavy velvet and pushed it away, prepared to launch myself backstage to be first to tell her the folly that had just happened, when the crowd gasped. I turned and followed the trail of their shocked eyes.

And Satine fell. The Moulin Rouge was, for the second time in my memory, dead silent. Satine had once done an act where she purposely 'fell' from her swing, but she never plummeted in the ungodly fashion with which she fell now. The sharpest breath I had ever taken pierced my lungs as my hand clenched, I waited helplessly for her to land with a wet crack on the ground.

And Chocolat caught her. In the instant I saw her face, before the backs of crowding dancers blocked my view, I saw she was unconscious. Chocolat moved quickly to bring her backstage as the crowd was left in confusion. My body reacted again with time and I flew backstage to see if I could find Satine and make sure she was safe. I barely heard Zidler begin to cover up what had just happened.

And it wasn't until much later that evening that I realized the frightening incident had temporarily erased my memory of the man who was not the Duke dancing with Satine, and by then it would be too late.


	4. The Night

As it turned out, half the Moulin Rouge was rushing the backstage area to see if Satine was safe

Author's Note: Hey, sorry this took me so long to get out. I'm at a summer program and it's pretty intense so I haven't had much time. Sadly, Moulin Rouge has left theaters but it had one helluva run, neh? Anyway, Toulouse is entering the story now and I just wanted to warn everyone that I tried and failed miserably to write in his accent. So please imagine it, you'll be glad you did and you didn't have to deal with "Bot hee is zo tAHlented" Heh. Please enjoy and standard disclaimers apply.

As it turned out, half the Moulin Rouge was rushing the backstage area to see if Satine was safe. All of us pressing forward in a frenzied mass, wanting to know what had happened. I was still a good distance from the cot where they had placed her, standing on my toes and peering over the shoulders of Jordan and Craig, two American art students who moonlighted as stage hands, when I heard the general release of air.

"She's fine."

"She's awake."

"It was the costume."

I sighed my relief as the crowd began to disperse. Watson, the British stage manager, was already hurrying the dancers and performers back on the main floor to do the Hunkadola. I was able to pick my way among the milling and moving stragglers fast enough to hear Satine faintly cough. Within a few more seconds I was standing at an angle, looking down at Satine and watching Marie's reaction. I stood, hands and arms limp, mouth slightly open, helpless and feeling frightened. Even in the dim candlelight the bright crimson stood out so brightly on the pure white of the handkerchief . . .then it slowly faded into a richer, darker color as the cloth absorbed the blood. I swallowed hard. Maybe, maybe, maybe . . .I thought. Her throat was sore? Raw? She swallowed something the wrong way? The coughing could be a cold. Anything. But not that. No. Satine wouldn't. Would she? It didn't make any sense.

"Don't you breathe a word of this to anyone." Marie's sharp words jerked me from my vacant thoughts and demeanor. I looked at her, briefly taking in her shocked and angry face. I moved my lips but no words were issued. Her face softened. "She'll be fine, Jo." She forced a smile. "It's just a bad cold."

"Yeah, I know." I wanted to be lied to for once. We both were fine with the lie and our private frantic hope. "It's just a cold. Nini had one last week, anyway." Satine lay there, beaded in sweat and breathing lightly.

****

"Scary, what happened with Satine." Gabrielle was wiping off her makeup with a soft cloth. I was counting my earnings for the night while enjoying the bustle surrounding me. For a change many of the girls were quite fine with being confined to a small area, all of us together. It took our minds off "the fall" as it was being called. No matter what feelings any of us had towards Satine, be it amiable or animosity, we all shared the common knowledge that without her . . .the rest of us we most likely out of a job. The way I figured, the Moulin Rouge would not last long once she left. There were too many girls who would compete to get the top spot, try to bargain with Zidler or just flat out leave. And even if there was competition . . .no one wanted to see anyone else break their necks in the middle of an act. According to Arabia, even Nini had looked horrified when Satine took the dive. Then again, there was Mome who had been scowling about Nini all night, saying she had said something about "The Duke not getting his money's worth."

"Yeah. Scary. Stupid costumes." I said softly, distracted. The Duke. What was there about the Duke? I hadn't seen him or the brute following him for some time. He must have been with Satine by now. Over and over in my mind I kept thinking about the blood. People with Consumption coughed blood. Consumption killed. I shook my shoulders and jerked my legs resting on the table, shaking the chair I was leaning into. Harry would never let Satine die. I decided. She was too important to him, financially and personally. There was a paternal affection there.

"Jo, why aren't you off sniffing out Toulouse so the two of you can debate those Bohemian beliefs?" Gabrielle grinned knowingly. I smirked and shrugged, looking away at the pad of paper I held in my hands and glancing at the piled paper bills. She punched my shoulder gently. "Jo, Satine 's fine. She's up there with the Duke." The Duke . . .there was something about the Duke I knew . . ."So where are you coming tonight, anyway Jo?"

"Coming tonight? Where would I be coming to?" I looked up, confused. Half the girls in the room stopped their movement and just flat out stared at me. A slow, creeping feeling of fear slowly took hold of my shoulders. "What? What'd I forget?"

"You idiot!" The onslaught began.

"Didn't you hear!?"

"Joesphine! What kind of a fool are you?!"

"What kind of person ever- EVER! Misses news like THIS?"

"Didn't you hear that the Duke is going to invest?!"

Invest? The Duke had already met with Satine? Had I been that engrossed in counting my earnings? That distracted by thinking about Satine's cough? I usually wasn't that detached from my surroundings . . .granted I had missed Samuel watching me . . .I mustered my most innocent look and smiled faintly.

"He is?" I squeaked.

"Oh my GOD!"

"She didn't know!"

"Jo! What's been wrong with you!?"

"Aren't you going to the party?"

In the back of my brain I vaguely remembered Toulouse slurring an invitation a few hours before. At the time I had been too busy trying to snatch the billfold of a very inebriated Swiss businessman to pay him much attention. And granted, I knew I could easily drop by Toulouse's and enjoy the party which would undoubtedly be composed of mostly patrons and employees of the Moulin Rouge . . .there was just one problem.

If I went to Toulouse's party I was going to wake up next to someone. Oh, I had been very, very carefully warned about Toulouse's parties by Zidler. It was one of the few activities he had "requested" I take no part in. 

"I know!" Nini cried with an evil gleam in her eye. "If she isn't doing anything else, she can come to Toulouse's with the rest of us!" I swallowed hard. I might be able to fend of insistent invitations on a 1 on 1 basis, but me against half the Moulin Rouge? I didn't stand a chance. "And she can wear a dress!" Oh, I was going to kill that bit-

"Excuse me?" The soft spoken, polite voice rose over the excited voices of the Dogs. "Is Josephine here?" The fact that there was a young, male voice querying about my whereabouts was enough to cause a general hush to fall over the group. We all turned our heads to where Samuel stood in his loose workman clothes. Battered brown pants and vest, grungy white shirt and tousled black hair. I heard Gabrielle give a near inaudible whistle. _He isn't even that handsome, Gabrielle, you foo_- "Ladies? Josephine?"

They pointed to where I was sitting, my hands clutching the pad to the point where the paper was gently wrinkling around the deep imprints. He smiled and winked his thanks to the room in general before striding over to my otherwise empty table and, with the driest of smiles, sat. It was that simple.

"Would you care to join me for a late dinner tonight? Since you were busy earlier?" From the corner of my eye I could see Gabrielle staring with her mouth open. The other Dogs and performers were "engaged" in light conversation at this point, a few actually making efforts to give me a little privacy but more allowing their paths of vision to drift slowly over. I blinked. 

"Late dinner?"

"Yes, there's a little place down the street that serves decent food until the most ungodly hours." He smiled. I winced inwardly. Spend the night in a dress at Toulouse's and most likely wake up next to some hung over man I didn't know and wouldn't remember . . .or risk giving Samuel and everyone else the wrong idea but getting dinner out of it. As I said, I was known for my infamous sense of practicality.

"Dinner sounds great." Samuel's eyes caught fire and a huge grin bloomed across his face.

"Really?" Despite his glowing expression the words were in the same calm, polite tone he had possessed that afternoon. "Would you care to head off now?"

"Let me get my coat." I said, picking up my separated piles of money, my share and Zidler's cut, and heading down the narrow corridor to my cot. I grabbed my jacket, folded twice as a makeshift pillow, and stowed my night's income under the mattress. I had an account at a legitimate bank but it would be a bit before I could get there, and I was counting on any thieving co-workers being too sloshed at Toulouse's to feel the urge to look for my money. Samuel waited at the end of the hall, running his eyes over the peeling paint and smiling politely at passing performers. We left through the back door.

"I'm sorry the invitation was so abrupt." Samuel said as we stepped out into the chilled evening air. He held the door for me and closed it quietly behind. "Actually, I just wanted to ask you if Satine was all right after her fall, it gave everyone quite a shock. But when I heard them starting to talk about Toulouse's I thought perhaps you might want to do something else." He smiled. "Not that there's anything wrong with Toulouse, his parties just get a mite out of hand, according to my father."

"No, thank you for offering me dinner." I ran a quick hand through my hair, moving a few errant strands from my face. "I know Toulouse and his parties have earned quite a reputation of infamy." I chuckled. " I mean, Toulouse himself is rather infamous."

"Yes . . .he seems to do a few rather strange things. I could have sworn I saw him and a few of his Bohemian friends climbing Satine's elephant a few hours ago." Samuel mentioned as he gazed towards the looming elephant. 

"That's funny!" I laughed, also gazing towards the elephant until a moment later my smile froze and a slow, pricking uncertainty grew on the back of my neck. "You-You are kidding aren't you?"

"Well . . .no." He smiled weakly. "I thought I saw four of them climbing up the tail."

"What!? Why didn't you tell Zidler!?" I burst, spinning around to face him, the strangest burning in my eyes. Samuel's mouth was moving but no words were coming out. "What's wrong with you? You know the Duke and Satine were supposed to be up there!"

"I-I thought I saw wrong! B-Besides! Obviously everything went fine between them!"

"You saw . . .how could you see wrong? Samuel, did you or did you not see Toulouse climbing the elephant?" I demanded. I was going to kill this boy for his utter ineptness. To hell with the fact that the Duke already was investing. The point was what could have happened. And when I got my hands on Toulouse's diminutive frame . . . Samuel was sweating now despite the cold and kept rubbing the back of his neck, his eyes flitting over the barren ground.

"I . . .guess I did. He and the others . . . I think there were four. I-I'm sorry." He said, sounding so crestfallen that my anger subsided slightly. I sighed rubbed my eyes wearily.

"Don't worry about it . . ." I sucked in a slow breath and exhaled quickly. "I guess nothing went wrong . . .but if you don't mind, I just want to make sure they still aren't there." I forced a smile. "Not that I'm too worried Satine will let Toulouse throw a party in the elephant . . .it'd just make me feel better." 

"I understand completely." He replied, swallowing hard.

****

I led Samuel through the labyrinth of the back stages and passages once again. We wove our way through the maze, climbing numerous cases of stairs and climbing stealthily through the levels of the Moulin Rouge. We passed a few of the older women, former Diamonds from another age, as they put on faded fancy hats and prepared to go out for the evening. For the most part we moved through abandoned, illy-lit halls as most of the employees had long since left for other affairs and areas. Despite the glamour of the dance hall with its bright lights and lies and makeup it was quite the cold and lonely place once the party ended. When I had first come the odd emptiness had caught me off guard, behind me I sensed Samuel reacting the same way. He constantly glanced over his shoulder and tensed at sounds.

"Lonely, no?" I asked softly. Turning I glanced at his face, barely lit by the flickering lamps. He smiled.

"It's strange."

"I know."

"You spend a lot of time here, don't you?" He was now next to me, looking ahead.

"More then most. Except Harold." It was true. Zidler put a lot of time into his beloved nightclub and rarely left.

"Do you get lonely?" There was the purest form of curiosity in his voice, I looked up at him but his eyes remained facing forward. I thought a moment.

"When I first came I was. But I was used to sleeping in a flophouse with people constantly surrounding me. I wasn't used to being alone. Now I'm rather fond of my time alone." Sometimes I wondered how I had lived without it. I enjoyed joking and spending time with most of the other girls, but after a time I thought everyone needed some time to their thoughts. Satine always took hers.

"I noticed." He commented.

"I heard you were watching me."

"You didn't notice?" He grinned.

"Of course I noticed." I lied. "But what was I supposed to do? Attack you?"

"Touche." We went on in silence for a few moments. "Why is it so important to you that the Duke invests?" There was the tone again, with the faintest hint of caring. I sighed and crossed my arms, straightening my spine.

"Because then the Moulin Rouge will become a theater and Satine will be a star." I had thought this explanation over and over in my mind. It felt good for some reason to talk about my thoughts on the subject, everyone else had assumed I was doing no more then my regular duties. "And when that happens . . .I'll be in for a pay raise of sorts. Heavier pockets, you know? And then I'll have enough to go to America, and a little extra."

"You want to go to America?"

"Yes I do."

"What would you do there?"

I chuckled in response and shrugged. "Anything I want. Go to school and be someone. A teacher or doctor perhaps. There are more opportunities in America for women then there are in France." I frowned and inwardly cringed at my pitiful tone with the next words. "I don't want to be like the girls here." Samuel nodded.

"And you would do all of this alone?"

"I would."

"You're brave."

I laughed. "I'm desperate." I joked with a broad smile to match his.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell Harold about Toulouse." He said, the moment gone and his face once again set and serious. I sighed and waved a hand.

"Don't be. I over reacted."

"You had every right to."

"Well he's investing now so nothing happened." I prayed the words over and over in my head as we reached Zidler's observatory. Samuel whistled.

"My father always told me Harold watched over the Moulin Rouge in such a fashion, but I never believed him."

"Harold just likes to make sure everything is going smoothly . . .sometimes fights break out." I was stalling from looking through the telescope. I was being stupid, I knew. But I could not rid myself of a sinking, scared feeling in my stomach.

"Are there many fights?"

"No, but when there are the rich idiots pull pistols. One of the things Harold pays me for is removing the firearms from overly rowdy guests. If they leave calmly I slip them back, if they try to pull them out . . .they're met with an unpleasant surprise." Samuel chuckled at my response. It was always amusing to me when one of those stuffed-shirt egotists shouted and insult and had their hand fly to their inner coat pocket only to find they had no weapon. Very amusing. More so when their opponent made a similar discovery seconds later.

"So . . .are you going check?" Samuel asked politely. He seemed to be nervous standing in Zidler's office. "We could still go out for a quick bite, if you'd like."

"A meal is always welcomed." I said with a smile, grasping the brass hand piece with a slightly shaking hand and bringing my eye to the cold metal. I gasped. The boy who was not the Duke was in the Elephant!

With Satine!

And they were kissing!

Quite passionately. . .and for an extended period of time_. Can they breathe?_ I wondered wildly.

"What!?" Samuel had a hand on my back and was leaning over the telescope, attempting to peer through the dark and see into the elephant. I quickly gathered my wits and replied with the only excuse I could think of.

"Satine and the Duke are still going at it!" _Oh that was real smooth Josephine and you call yourself a -_

"Are you kidding?"

"No!"

"I didn't think that English-bred bastard would've had the stamina!" We both burst out laughing and I stood , grabbing Samuel's arm and pulling myself next to his side before leading him towards the door. I had learned some ways of dealing with men during my time at the Moulin Rouge and I had to stop him from looking through that scope. He came willingly.

"So where do you want to eat?" He asked, placing his hand on my arm.

"Oh," I replied trying for the most convincing carefree tone I could muster. "I don't care."

****

"So I heard you were out with Samuel last night, Jo." Satine was sporting a devilish grin as I brought her lunch into the dressing room. I felt my face turn red. She chuckled. "He's quite the looker. The other girls were telling me how he walked right in and swept you off your feet to dinner." The heat from my face was spreading rapidly towards the back of my neck. "And if I'm not mistaken . . ." Her feral grin was edging towards her ears. "This is the first time you've come here since you left . . .where were you all night?" What did she want me to say? That I was doing the same thing she and whoever-he-was were doing in the elephant?

"We were talking." I said simply. She raised her infamous eyebrow.

"Talking? After you took him on that tour for over three hours?" My hands had clenched into fists that were trembling at my side. She smiled kindly. "I'm only teasing, Jo. Don't be cross. You must understand that after so many months of your brand of teasing that you're going to get a little back."

"We were talking. And I don't like him"

"What color are his eyes?" 

"Green." I blurted out before catching myself. Satine turned her back to me, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

"So what did you two . . .talk . . .about?"

I sighed and resigned myself to the fate I had spent eight months designing. "We talked mostly about the Bohemian dogma and books. We ate at this little café a few blocks over, I don't remember the name." I yawned. "He's very smart." Satine smiled and reached for a roll.

"Oh?"

"Yes, and very talented." I swore I saw her smile waver for a moment. 

"Talented?"

"We walked to his father's tailor shop and he showed me some of the costumes he's been working on. They're amazing." I explained, surprised as Satine's serene expression returned. "So what happened last night?" Her eye twitched.

"What happened?"

"Yeah, with the fall? You ok?" I asked, deeply enjoying her growing paranoia on some sick level.

"Oh! I'm fine, it's so silly. My costume was too tight."

"Well here's the little Juliet!" A familiar bray broke into the room and I turned to smile at Mome lumbered inside. "Where's Romeo?"

"Samuel is waiting outside for her, she just told me that they're running off to America together!" Satine joked. Mome burst into laughter. Rolling my eyes and heaving a dramatic sigh I replied with the driest of tones.

"Oh yes. We're running off to America together and we're going to open a tailor shop in New York City. And we're going to get married and have ten children!" They were laughing so hard now that even I couldn't manage not to smile. I suppose if I were teasing someone else it would be just as funny. Better to laugh with them then be laughed at. When they calmed down Mome remembered what she had come to tell us.

"Harold is giving the official announcement this afternoon and would like everyone to come."

"Assuming they're not all hung over from Toulouse's party, right?" I asked with a mischievous grin. "How was it, anyway?" 

Mome smiled, quite pleased with herself for one reason or another. "Quite fun, Jo. You really should come to one sometime." She clucked her tongue. "The way that Argentinean and Elizabeth were going at it. You really wouldn't believe . . .Oh, but Satine! I didn't see you there! Where were you? The Duke left long before the party ended." I could tell instantly by Mome's tone that she was not looking for gossip, she sounded concerned. "Were you resting because of your swoon?" This led me to an ultimate conclusion. "I was worried." No one else saw Satine with the man who was not the Duke.

Because if they had, it would have spread like wildfire and Mome would be asking directly about it. 

Satine flashed the smile she gave Harold when he needed to be reassured that nothing was going to go horribly, horribly wrong. "Oh, that's kind of you. Yes, I was just resting."

"You really have been pushing yourself too hard lately, Satine." I piped up. Mome nodded.

"Honestly, Satine. You must take better care of yourself! Besides . . ." She grinned evilly. "If those costumes are giving you so much trouble we can always have Jo ask her lover-boy to fix it for you if his father's away." The red face returned. Mome winked at me and cackled. "Right Jo?" 

"I hate the both of you." I groaned, ducking out of the room and heading for my cot. 

"Hey!" Oh hell. "And where were you last night, _Josephina_?" 

"It's Gussieppina if you want to mimic Italian you-" I began with a sneer before Gabrielle caught my shoulder.

"Don't." She whispered. "Nini is just in a bad mood."

"Josephina! Were you out doing what you despise us for doing? Huh?"

Gabrielle dragged me down the hall, away from Nini and the snickering crowd of onlookers. As we passed Watson he leered 'knowingly'. "They know you didn't sleep with him." Gabrielle said. "So don't take it too personally. And Nini is still fuming about Samuel commenting she might have Syphilis."

"What's the situation with the Duke?" I asked, changing the subject.

"He'll be here for Harold's announcement." She coughed. "So . . .what did you two do?"

"Talked. How was Toulouse's party?"

"Wild, they always are. Satine never showed though which was a little strange. And there was some kind of row up in the elephant."

"Was there?" I asked, confused. I hadn't seen anything the night before . . .well, nothing that I wouldn't have heard about already if it had caused a row. Gabrielle grinned.

"I think it has something to so with Spectacular, Spectacular?"

"What's that?"

"What's that? Jo! Where has your head been? It's the reason Toulouse threw the party last night!" I frowned at her response. I had been so sure that he had been saying through his slurred, thick accent 'Todd sold his great Spatula, Spatula'. He had said stranger things while meeting with the Green Fairy.

"I thought he was celebrating the Duke's investment . . ." 

"Oh!" She cried. "He was! But you see, Jo, the reason he invested is because Satine, Harold, Toulouse and the Bohemians pitched him this new play that's all about the Bohemian ideals! But that's all I know. Harold is saying more this afternoon. But something really big is going to happen."

I groaned. "That means Audrey is going to be prancing about like he always does." Whenever he was writing one of his shows he strutted up and down the halls of the Moulin Rouge, snapping orders and acting the role of the prima donna. He failed to comprehend the simple fact that the hordes of 'fans' were men who came to see Satine, not listen to his hack writing. Briefly, I wondered what it would be like to live in such a world of delusion.

Gabrielle slapped me on the back. "Perhaps!" She cawed, obviously trying stifle her laughter. "But it will also give you and lover-boy lots of time together if he's working on the costumes. She took off with such speed that it took me a full minute run her down and slap her on the back of the head.

****

"And furthermore!" Harold was braying. Samuel and I were sitting at a table far in the back of the hall with Gabrielle, Lucile and Wesley. For the most part the hall was empty, many of the denizens of the Moulin Rouge still recovering from Toulouse's party. I managed to catch a glimpse of Satine as she flashed two very different smiles in quick succession. 

"Satine is acting strangely." I muttered, causing Wesley and Samuel to raise their eyebrows at me. We had stopped paying attention long ago. There had been a long speech about a 'new era' for the Moulin Rouge and that he was expecting all of us to pitch in for the "good of the group". The Duke had said a few words about discipline and how grateful we should be. He also was kind enough to introduce us to "His manservant. Warner."

"Bet me and Paul could take Warner." Wesley had hissed as the bald mammoth stood, pulling his vest back just far enough for even we in the back to see the silver glint of his gun. 

"Bet I could get his gun before he shot you." I had grinned.

But we all knew Zidler and new he would save the best for last. "Leave with a bang." Was his personal motto (as well as the unofficial motto of the Moulin Rouge among the crude well-to-do patrons). And sure enough, his voice was rising to crescendo. "Into a theater!" He held up a model as Gabrielle and I slapped hands happily. The boys grinned and nodded. "Totally Bohemian . . ." Harold was singing the praises as Samuel leaned over and whispered to me.

"I spoke to Harold before the meeting, I'll be working with my father on the costumes. The play is going to be about India!" I smiled, happy for him, while at the same time wondering how Audrey had ever decided to come up with a location so exotic. He always wrote about European locations and I was almost positive that he had said his next 'masterpiece' would be placed in Switzerland . . .

BOOM! Suddenly a giant ball burst through the wall behind Harold as we screamed and leapt from our chairs. I was vaguely aware of Paul pulling Gabrielle back as Samuel took my shoulder. White plaster rained down from the shattered wall as bricks toppled backwards out of the building. It was from this shower of dust and debris from which Harold rose triumphantly, covered in the remnant of the wall and cried:

"The show must go on!" 

"I don't care what anyone says!" Paul exclaimed. "He takes this 'show must go on' crap too far!"

"Agreed!" Gabrielle and I said simultaneously. The meeting broke up and I caught sight of Toulouse. 

"I'll see you all later." I called, making my way across the empty hall to catch him. I saw that he already held a half drained bottle of absinthe even though it was only mid-afternoon. I sighed inwardly, while there was nothing wrong with a glass of absinthe every now and then, it didn't do well to be stumbling around dead drunk one's whole life. The 'genius' would drink himself into an early grave. "Toulouse!" I hailed him. He turned, looking a bit dazed and smiled.

"Josephine! I didn't see you last night!"

"Oh, I was out with Samuel. We were getting some dinner."

"Samuel?" He crooned, grinning broadly. "Oh yes, yes. Marcel's absolutely delightful son! Yes, he's going to be helping us with the costumes for Spectacular, Spectacular! Have you heard about it yet?"

"Yes, Gabrielle told me that Audrey is having it take place in Switzerland." I rubbed the back of my neck sheepishly. "I must admit, I never thought he'd write something that took place outside of Europe!"

Toulouse chuckled and clapped me on my elbow. "Audrey? Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, Josephine! Audrey isn't writing this! We've a new writer from England! A most talented one too! Christian!" He seemed to be calling to someone behind me as well as speaking the name.

"Audrey 's gone!?" Toulouse looked a bit confused by my joyous tone. THAT bit of news was going to be met with similar reactions. I was already imagining the toast I'd have with some of the girls. "Oh . . .I'm, uh . . .sorry Toulouse."

"It's no problem, really. A most paradoxical quandary! But Audrey's loss is our gain, I just know you'll love Christian's work! Would you like to meet him?" 

"Absolutely! And Toulouse . . ."

"Yes, Josephine?"

"If I ever hear about you climbing on the elephant again, I'll kill you."

He smiled weakly. "W-what ever are you talking about?"

I grinned. It wasn't worth it. "Nevermind."

"Ah! There he is! Christian! There's someone I'd like you to meet!" I turned to look at the new writer.

And in that moment learned that I was as good of an actress as Satine.

Author's Note: Not the best ending for a chapter, I know. But I'm itching for an ending spot and this is the best I can come up with. Until next time.


	5. Contracts

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy, please review

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy, please review.

The boy (who was older then I) who was not the Duke turned out to be Christian. The Moulin Rouge's new writer. And Toulouse's latest protégé. I somehow managed to keep a polite smile and serene expression while a small racket of explosions was detonating inside my skull. _What the hell is going on!?_

"Good Afternoon, Christian, I'm Jo and it's a pleasure to meet you. Viva la Revolution." He held out his hand and I shook it briefly, his eyes lighting up at the Bohemian greeting.

"Jo, nice to meet you too. Toulouse has told me that at some time I must discuss the ideals with you." I smiled and averted my eyes downward, unsure of how to act in this most unusual of circumstances. Here was someone who Satine, of all people, with her dreams of being a famous actress on the European stages, had been kissing the previous evening in the elephant after the Duke had left. The Duke who was investing an enormous amount of money. An investment which would be very, very beneficial to her. "He said you were quite the prodigy." There was no way Christian, who was currently speaking with me while allowing his gaze to drift to Satine, could possibly be as well endowed financially as the Duke. And I doubted if the Duke or his manservant Warner would be too pleased to discover Satine with Christian. So as it stood . . .Satine had been kissing the new writer Christian, who was not rich, in the elephant after the man who stood to give her everything she ever wanted had left. There was only one explanation. Satine had gone mad.

" Oh, Jo!" Satine approached with a radiant smile. "So you've met our new writer."

"Yes." I replied smiling brightly and taking a step back so I could face both of them. "I'm glad you're here, Christian. Did you ever meet Audrey? He was an egotistical nightmare."

"I only had a brief encounter with him." Christian smiled. I watched as Satine matched his smile as though he had made a clever joke. I groaned inwardly. With their obvious body language and flitting glances it was almost as though they wanted to be discovered. 

"So the play is taking place in India, eh?" I asked loudly, hoping to snap them out of their semi-stupor before the Duke stopped bickering with Zidler in the background and noticed the two. Toulouse waved his hands and tapped his cane.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Christian was so effulgent! He came up with the story right away for the Duke!"

"Right away for the Duke?" I asked dumbly, my eyebrow shooting up. From the corner of my eye I saw Christian looking panicked and Satine pale.

"Yes! For the Duke! You see we were in the-"

"Oh my Toulouse!" Satine suddenly jumped in, drowning out his words. "I completely forgot! Harold wanted another of your posters featuring Arabia!" She stooped to grab his shoulder and spun him towards Zidler. "Why don't you go ask him about it?" I frowned and feigned indifference to the topic while stewing inside. Toulouse also knew she was dallying with Christian? Did all the Bohos who comprised his entourage know? If that was the case . . .it wouldn't be long before the girls heard. Assuming they didn't figure it out sooner from the openly affectionate pair. Now Satine turned to me. "And Jo, would you mind running to the market and getting crepes?"

I grinned easily. "Ok, ok. I know when I'm not wanted." The tone was light hearted enough so they knew I joking, but the remark was enough to cause both of them to jump a bit. I looked at Christian with a highly amused smile, my own private joke at their expense. "Anything the new writer would like?"

"Oh, no thank you."

"Sure? There's some good food down there."

"I'm afraid I haven't been there yet, I wouldn't know what to ask for."

"No?" I was shocked. Within an hour of my arrival to Montmarte I had known where the market was located. "I'll have to take you there some time when you're not working, you can tell me about the play." He smiled.

"I'd be very grateful, thank you."

"Satine, I'll be back in about two hours with your crepes. Christian, nice meeting you and I hope to see you about." I left and headed back across the hall (now amply lighted courtesy of the torn wall) towards Zidler and the Duke while Toulouse, with a furtive glance at Satine's back headed off towards a group of ecstatically chattering Bohemians. As I approached, Zidler looked up and waved me over.

"Jo, I would like to introduce you to our esteemed investor. Duke . . ." I couldn't hear the rest over the sudden commotion as yet another wall fell. "He's quite eager to talk to you." I frowned.

"To me, Dear Duke?" I vaguely recalled from my days with the nuns that they always insisted that nobles should be addressed with reverence similar to that of "Our Dear Lord". I suppose it never hurt the nuns when they went collecting for donations to make the rich feel revered. He smiled. Even while watching him I had never realized what a weasel like face he had. All the features and manners of the powerful coward."

"Dear Duke?" I cringed as his nasal voice pierced my ears. "I quite like that title. Tell me, girl, Zidler here tells me that you have no objections to doing odd jobs for compensation." I looked at Zidler, he smiled nervously. I looked at the Duke.

"That depends on the job. I collect information if that's what your asking." I replied warily. The Duke sneered at what he no doubt considered my impertinence but said nothing about it.

"That's just what I need. I also hear you pick pockets for a few more dollars in your pocket." I stiffened but nodded. "Well," He continued, oblivious or uncaring to my state of insult. "I can promise you that while you work for me you won't have to pick pockets."

"While I work for you?" I asked, stupefied. _I intend to stay as far away as I can from you, Dear Duke._ I thought as Harold spoke up.

"Josephine, as the Duke is giving-"

"Lending, Zidler. I expect a profit." The Duke sneered, his moustache twitching.

"Forgive me, Dear Duke, lending of course." Zidler apologized softly before continuing. My eyes widened, it was disconcerting to see Harold groveling in such a manner. "So much money I have assured him that he will have joint authority over all employees of the Moulin Rouge." My eye involuntarily twitched.

"Oh?" I asked, my voice high.

"Of course since you are not an official employee and I will require you to be on alert at all hours, I will be willing to compensate you." The Duke interjected.

"But we'll still ask for your cooperation, Josephine." Added Zidler with begging eyes.

"What exactly is it that you want me to do, Dear Duke?"

"As I've explained to Zidler, I know what you seedy, underworld, show-folk types are like." He said, carefully brushing some plaster dust from his gray bowler. "And I have assigned my manservant Warner to ensure a contract Zidler here has agreed to is enforced."

"Contract?"

"Yes, you can speak with Warner for more details, but the main thing is I want you to keep an eye on Satine."

"Satine? Why?"

"I want you to keep an open eye and ear," He ignored my question. "For any rumors concerning suitors or men still under the impression she is for sale. And I want you to report them to Warner or I and we will handle them as we see fit. And if Zidler here tries anything, you are to report him as well." I was barely able to keep the anger off my face and even Harold was unable to conceal his shock at such a blatant insult. "It's not that I don't have complete confidence in Warner, it's just that I know he can't be everywhere at once."

"So when do I get compensated for spying on friends and co-workers?" Given the smile he flashed me, I got the distinct impression that my anger and sarcastic tone had been completely lost on him. He brought his fingertips together.

"You will be paid on opening night when I consummate my relation with Satine." _They haven't slept together? Then what in the world would cause him to invest?_

"Opening night isn't for quite sometime." I replied coolly. "What am I supposed to live off of?" 

The Duke sneered, reached into his pocket, removed a small roll of bills and threw them at me. They fell to the floor. Harold looked astonished. "You underworld type never learn to save anything, do you?" _Who's spending all this money on a theater so he can sleep with some woman?_ The Duke's face suddenly lit up. "Ah! There's my diamond! If you'll excuse me!" And with that he rushed off. Both Harold and I exhaled deeply. I looked at Harold.

"You know-" I began.

"I know." He said heavily. "But what do you mean what will you live off of? Do you think I'm unaware of your bank account?" I grabbed the bills and jammed them into my pocket.

"Why should I spend that when I can just get some from him?" I smiled. "The pompous ass tax."

Harold was not amused. "I don't want you to say or do anything, do you understand me?"

"Don't worry."

"We can't afford to lose or anger him, understand? Just do what he says. Now go find Warner and follow his orders, Jo." It frightened me that Harold seemed so nervous and skittish about the entire situation, almost as if there was something he wasn't telling me. I swallowed.

"Ok, Harry."

****

I decided as I gasped for air, the neck of my shirt painfully drawn against my neck, that I did not like Warner and we were not going to get along. He dropped me to the floor, releasing his grip from my collar and no longer holding me in the air. I fell into a heap, choking.

Our conversation thus far had been: "Excuse me, Mr. Warner? I'm Josephine, the Duke said I was to speak to you?"

And then Warner had introduced me to the wall.

"Understand whose orders you're following now, girl?" He growled. I nodded fearfully, fighting the urge to babble my complete comprehension of whose orders I was to follow. "Good. The Duke wants me to make sure that no old ties or loyalty will keep you from your task."

"They won't!" I blurted. "I swear!" Survive. First rule. Tell them what they want to hear. Pretend you're down and beaten. This was the first thing I had learned on the streets.

"Good. Satine is now bound by contract to sleep only with the Duke on opening night, understand girl?" I nodded. _Satine? The contract is about Satine?_ "You're going to help me keep an eye on everyone who might be trying to get into bed with her. Understand?"

"Yes! I do!"

"And if anyone tries anything you'll tell me right away, won't you?"

"Yes!"

"And if you don't." He ended his argument with a boot to my stomach that doubled me up nicely. I bit my tongue and tasted blood in my mouth. Warner left and I lay still a few more moments.

_This is all going to end badly. _I thought. And then something that Warner had said clicked and I sat up with the force of the thought. 

****

"You sold Satine, Harry!" I screamed as I burst into his office. His head flew up from the papers he had been reading. "Sold her! To that madman! How COULD you, Harry? How could you?" Zidler was on his feet now, trying to calm me.

"Sh! Josephine, quiet!" He said frantically, grasping me by the shoulders. "Do you want everyone to hear-" He frowned. "What happened to you?" I laughed, it was a high pitched and strange sound. "Josephine, what happened? Who did this?"

"Oh." I giggled, I suddenly found my situation quite funny. "Warner. Wanted to make sure I understood who Satine belonged to and why I was going to help keep it that way."

"What!?" Harold roared. "What did you say?"

"Nothing . . ." I trailed, an overwhelming sense of sadness washing over me. I looked up at Zidler, tears burning in my eyes. "I didn't say anything and he just beat me." I wiped my eyes with my sleeve as Harold's face softened. "Really, Harry. I didn't do anything."

"It's alright, Josephine . . .you're not in trouble." _Oh yes I am . . ._

"I can't believe you sold Satine."

"I didn't sell-"

"Yes. You did . . .no matter what you tell yourself." 

"You don't understand."

"I understand, you're so damn eager to make money you'll sell her off!"

"She's agreed to it." I was silent, I knew she had. I didn't care. "And why are you so worried, Josephine? Satine will handle this perfectly, has she ever gone wrong before? And it's a relief for her, she won't have to sleep with anyone for a while and she'll still be cared for." My eye twitched as Zidler watched me. "What's gotten into you, you're usually far more perceptive."

"Why is it so important, Harry?" I asked dully.

"Why is what so important?"

"That she doesn't sleep with anyone else? I understand the Duke is possessive . . .but why are you so adamant? The worst he can do is pull funding, which is bad, but not enough for you to tolerate all of this." Harold sighed, struggling with something. "Harry," I said softly, he looked at me. "Tell me why I'm going to be tolerating this," I pointed to the dry stream of blood that marred my chin. "For some time. Give me a reason."

"The Duke is holding the deeds to the Moulin Rouge as collateral." He softly replied, something resembling guilt on his face. But I knew he never felt guilt. I closed my eyes. Opened them.

"Thank you for telling me."

I left.

_Very badly._

****

"What happened to your neck?" Samuel had heard I was at the market and had come to find me. This was his greeting.

"My neck?"

"It's bruised." He reached out and gently touched the nape. I flinched.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!" He pulled away, watching me with an expression of gentle concern. "What happened?"

"Ah, I was stupid. I was jumping from one of the catwalks to another and damn near hung myself." I chuckled and shook my head, bringing my hand to my neck. "I didn't know it got bruised." 

"Oh." Samuel quietly replied. I didn't have the energy to worry whether or not he believed me. The important thing was that he stopped asking questions. I pulled my jacket tightly about my shoulders, flipping up the collar.

****

"Samuel said your neck was bruised." Gabrielle was watching me. "He said you wouldn't tell him what happened." I looked up from where Marie was inspecting the ugly blue stains, checking to see it anything had been pulled. I didn't say anything but clutched the brown paper bag in my hand a bit tighter. She sighed. "You should've just said it was Warner." 

"Was it?" I asked dully.

"We're not so stupid, Jo." Arabia interjected, applying makeup to her already perfect face. "No one who works here would or could do that to you. And Harold has given us the 'do what they say' speech as well." She shuddered.

"Let's hope that Warner stays away from here." Mome scowled. "I don't trust him." 

"It's the Duke I don't trust." I sneered. "Something is just plain wrong with that man!"

Gabrielle nodded and sighed. "Too bad he's rich."

"Well he's investing so keep your thoughts to yourself when you're around him." Admonished Marie with a stern glance to all. "He's going to be here a lot."

"C'mon Marie!" I said with a devious smile, pulling away. "What do you think we'll do?"

"Oh Dear Duke!" Gabrielle suddenly cried in a high, foolish voice. "I just wanted to tell you what I think of you!"

"Think!?" Paul came forward from the shadows as we all jumped at his sudden entrance. He took an old costume top hat from a rack and began a vain attempt to mimic the Duke's voice. "Women don't think! You're here so I can buy you and make you what I want!"

"Oh , but Dear Duke!" I gasped. "What about the play Spectacular, Spectacular?"

"I'm warning all of you-" Marie tried to interrupt, but we were on a roll.

"Yes! And the Bohemian ideals it upholds!" Arabia laughed.

"You think I care about that silly dogma? I just want to ogle my newest toy!" He grabbed Gabrielle by the waist with an evil grin. By this time we were all valiantly holding back our laughter and attempting to carry on with our charade.

"If you want my opinion of the Duke . . ." The voice rang quite clearly through the room with an unusual haughtiness and we froze. Paul still gripping Gabrielle's waist, Mome and Arabia guffawing, Marie shaking her head but nonetheless amused and I clasping the table for support, about to make another comment. "He's quite generous to invest so much money in the Moulin Rouge and you're all being quite ungrateful." Satine entered and everyone, with the exception of Marie, swallowed hard. "You're all going to benefit from this as well."

It struck me as odd that she was acting in such a manner and my anger rose a little though I kept my face calm.

"All of us, huh?" Snapped Gabrielle. We started, this was very unlike her. She stalked over to me and jerked me by my arm, pulling my jacket collar from my neck and pointing. Paul cursed in shock and Satine went pale. "All of us!? Did you see what your boyfriend's lapdog did to Jo?"

"It's not so bad." I said softly, pulling away from her as she glared daggers into Satine. Heck, it wasn't Satine's fault.

"Jo," Satine said apologetically. "I'm sorry, I had no idea-"

"Of course you didn't!" Gabrielle was still at it. "You're too busy telling us to be grateful while that freak is beating Jo up!"

"Gabrielle!" Cried Marie. Paul was now holding Gabrielle back by her arms. Arabia and Mome were sitting stunned.

"Hey!" I hollered. Everyone looked at me. "I'm fine! And it was my own fault, alright?" So it was a bad lie. No one was talking about me being 'beat up' for the moment. "And Satine 's right! We should be grateful and we are going to benefit from all of this." I saw Gabrielle relax.

"Sorry, Satine." She muttered. "I'm just angry right now." She turned and left, Paul gave us a backwards glance before following her. A few seconds later Arabia, Mome and Marie drifted from the room.

"I'm . . ." Satine began softly. "I'm sorry."

I shrugged. "Don't be. It's not your fault." I sighed and looked at the ceiling, studied the grains and marks in the wood. "I'm supposed to spy on you."

"Are you?" She blinked. I nodded.

"Yeah." I gazed at her dead on. "You know you're bound by contract to the Duke?"

She forced a smile. "Did Harold tell you or is the grape vine growing that fast?"

"Warner told me." I rubbed my neck. "Quite bluntly." Satine flinched and I continued. "I'm supposed to help them ensure you and everyone else is honoring that contract."

Satine smiled. "Well, that shouldn't be too hard."

I let a moment pass in silence, studying my shoes. "You're being an idiot."

"Excuse me?" 

"I saw you last night with Christian." I looked up, Satine had her mask.

"Oh that?" She said airily. "We were pitching the play to the Duke!"

"Afterwards." Satine was silent. "After they were all gone. I saw you." I sighed. I wanted to cry or scream or hurt someone. I didn't. "I'm not going to tell anyone."

I paused, but she said nothing. Just watched.

"You slept with Christian?"

"T-that's none of your concern, Jo."

I gave her a pained smile and pointed at the ugly mess that was my neck. "Oh." My voice wavered. "But it is. I think you slept with him. And the way you two acted in the hall, I think you're falling in love with him. And I think you'll continue to have displays like you did in the elephant."

"Jo-" She began. I held up my hand.

"I'm not going to tell. It wouldn't serve any point and it would get you, Christian and I hurt. And I'm not too eager for another time with Warner." I took a deep breath. So here's what I'll do. I'll do my best to make sure you don't get caught."

"What? Why?" Satine watched me.

"Because I think you know the risks involved. I think you know that, if the Duke finds out, the Moulin Rouge will close and many of us will never find jobs, you will have lost your chance to be a star and Christian will most likely be hurt. And if you're willing to risk all of that . . .then nothing I do or say will stop you." I smiled weakly. "Besides, you've carried the weight of this place long enough . . .if anyone deserves a break or whatever it's you." Poor rationalization, I knew it. I didn't care. The Duke would make our lives hell if he found out. And I would undoubtedly get Warner's personal attention.

"You really aren't going to tell anyone . . .are you?" Her tone was full of wonder.

"No."

****

_Idiot. Idiot. Idiot._ That thought kept ringing through my head the entire day. But what else could I do? What would be gained by loosing a talented writer and angering our investor? We'd loose our show, no customers would come and I would make no money. And . . .Samuel wouldn't be getting the work experience he needed to become a great tailor.

"So if you ruffle the taffeta like this . . ." He twisted the cloth in his hands. "It completes the effect."

"Beautiful!" I exclaimed. "But it won't help much in making those costumes for Spectacular, Spectacular, will it?"

"Nope." He sighed, dropping the material. He flashed a smile. "But it'll be a fun challenge."

"Samuel!" Marcel called gruffly, thrusting his head into the room. His expression lightened considerably when he saw me sitting with his son. "Samuel . . .I'm heading home now for dinner. Should I expect you to be in later this evening?"

"Yes, I'll be home at eleven, father." Samuel replied in his quiet way. "I want to finish the sketches for the Sitar costume."

"Have a good night, you two." Marcel left. Samuel picked up his sketchpad. I watched him a moment before returning my eyes to the newspaper I held but the text swam before me as my mind wandered. Or should I say paced because the only thing I could think of was Samuel. Samuel who wanted to open a fine tailor store. Samuel, who spoke French, English and German fluently. Samuel, who had read as many books as I. Samuel, with his quiet and serious manner and ready smile. Samuel, who asked nothing of me. Samuel who had thankfully stopped asking about the bruises.

"Your shirt is torn near the shoulder." His voice broke through my thoughts. I looked down, the material had stretched and ripped at the seam where Warner had held me.

"Oh, I didn't notice.. I'll ask Marie to-" But Samuel had already gently grasped my shoulder and was pushing the needle through the cloth. 

"This will be a minute." I sat stiffly, not accustom to being touched by men beyond rough housing, and barely breathed. "Don't worry, I won't stick you."

"I trust you." He smiled, his eyes on the tear, his face scant inches from mine. It was strange to see him so close, feel the warmth of his light breathing against my shoulder along with the gentle grip of his hand. _Oh Damn_, I thought miserably. _I'm acting like one of the girl-_

"And finished." Samuel deftly cut the thread with a quick snap and knotted it. "It's hardly perfect . . ." I glanced at the tiny, precise stitches that held the sleeve, far better then I could ever hope to mend anything. "If you'd like I can take it home and do a better job." _Damn pounding heart and his stupid eyes!_

"I think he just wants you to take your shirt off!" I rolled my eyes and Samuel began to turn crimson as Nini stepped into the room. 

"Fitting?" I asked, rising.

He stood as well and sighed. "Yes, I'll see you later, Jo." 

****

The next morning Christian came to speak with me. I was caught quite off-guard given the fact that, at the time, I was up in the rafters helping Jordan and Marcel aid some of the older hands with heavy lifting.

"Damn," Marcel spat. "I'm a tailor, not a stage hand!" The beam we were moving had just clattered to the floor again, barely missing his foot..

I grunted at the effort of lifting it again. "Why didn't you send up your son?"

"He's still taking measurements and he needs the practice."

"Hey Jo," Jordan grinned. "Don't you have a walk on part you'll need measurements for?"

"Go to hell, Jordan." I sneered over Marcel's laughter.

"Excuse me, I was told Jo is here?" Christian's voice echoed from behind us loudly. Marcel started cursing in earnest as the beam landed squarely on his foot. After apologizing profusely and helping us move the monstrous beam, Christian and I went for a walk to a nearby Absinthe bar. He bought the first round.

"I want to thank you for what you said to Satine." He began. I waved my hands, screwing my eyes shut as the green stuff slammed into my brain.

"Think nothing of it." I choked. Absinthe was a bitter drink and it always burned my throat. The small green bitch flew up and watched me with a dark smirk. Amused at my sudden 'weakness' I supposed. "I owe her, she got me the job anyway."

Across the small table Christian was smiling into thin air. "Perhaps," He said dreamily. "But it's nice of you anyway." The bitch was now laughing and pointing at me, I scowled. "I mean," He laughed without humor. "You could be fired." The bitch laughed harder, holding her sides. "Or hurt by Warner." She was gasping for air now. "Or the Duke could put you in jail." Tears rolling down her face. "No matter what happened, you'd never get to America with the record it's give you." Rolling on the floor with twitching wings. "They don't take thieves or the physically disabled." 

"Enough!" I leapt up and slammed my hand down, glaring at Christian. "You're new to Absinthe, aren't you?" I hissed. "What is this? Your second or third glass?" He nodded dumbly while the fairy leered hungrily at him. I blinked at the ominous scene_. He's too innocent . ._ .the thought came from nowhere. _He's going to be eaten alive here . . ._and it was gone, my anger returning. "Just say thank you and be done with it!" I threw my hands up. "You're going to give yourselves up like THAT!" I knocked my glass over, the few patrons in the bar openly staring as I made a scene. Christian sat sputtering as I stormed out, the fairy flying after me.

"You're a fool." She whispered, giggling, over and over as I stalked back to the Moulin Rouge. I stared up at the giant red windmill, my worst fears stirring in my soul. "You'll never get out of here." She smiled darkly. "They'll be discovered you know, and you'll never leave. You'll become one of them. But don't worry, I'll be here to keep you company. Just like I do for all the others."

I shivered in the cool air.


End file.
